


You Won't Lie to Me

by samariumwriting



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Developing Relationship, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Getting Together, M/M, Spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/pseuds/samariumwriting
Summary: For years now, Sylvain and Claude have had a... mutually beneficial relationship. Sylvain tells him how things fare in the Kingdom, and Claude returns the favour for the Alliance.Every time Sylvain visits, they meet only once. This time, things are different - Claude asks to speak to him again.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	You Won't Lie to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timehopper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/gifts).



> This was a commission for Giuliana, who asked for during timeskip Claudevain with plenty of intrigue. The result was this, which was an Absolute blast to write! These two have such a great dynamic and the concept she provided...chef's kiss.

Sylvain looked out over the water with a small smile on his face. He wasn't born sailing like some people, and the choppy depths of the water still unnerved him at times, but there was no denying it - these voyages had become a second home for him over the past few years.

He closed his eyes and let the chill of the sea breeze strike his face as they cut through the water. These ships were fast; even with the war raging on to the west, there was little that could be done to stop the flow of trade over to the Alliance. He'd be in Derdriu within days, and that was when the fun would really start.

It was hard not to relish these times. He knew, logically, that he should throw his every effort into the war with the Dukedom, and even though he cared more than anything about the outcome of the war, that didn't mean all the fighting wasn't tiring. It was nice to get away, even enjoy himself a little.

His chest filled with something close to excitement as he finally stepped off the boat in Derdriu's port. It was sunnier than Gautier ever was, and it made a world of difference to...everything, really. It made it nice, at least, to wander around the city and take in the sights a little.

The cobbled streets were packed with merchants, making it easy to blend in as he made his way down alleyway after alleyway. His letter from Claude said it was to 'shake off any interested parties', but Sylvain knew better than to get complacent. He kept an eye out as he turned the final corner, checking to see if there was anyone he recognised from before.

No one. No one at all, actually - not even Claude. The street was nearly empty, with no loiterers at any corner. Sylvain sighed and propped himself up against one house's wall, hoping he looked like he was waiting for something innocent rather.

A few minutes later, Claude showed up. He looked the same as always: he greeted Sylvain with a smile that warmed something in the depths of his war-hardened heart and started to walk. He'd told Sylvain, once, that he had a route planned out in his head whenever they did this, but he didn't tell anyone what it was or even write it down. Just in case.

"Glad to see you again, Sylvain," Claude said. "How was the journey?"  _ Was the battle just before you arrived successful? _

"Oh, it was fine," he replied, an easy smile on his face in return. This part was as natural as breathing, something he'd done a hundred times before he even knew Claude. He was pretty sure that was why Claude had approached him with this proposal just as the war broke out. "A little rocky, but barely any worse than usual. The weather was foul, though; I think it'll be a hard winter."

Claude nodded, not even a hint of a frown on his face at the (probably expected) bad news. "Things have been pretty bad over here, too," he replied. The tone of his voice was a perfect emulation of commiseration. "We've had a couple troubles with the crops. It's difficult to get them transported up here when there are storms."  _ There's trouble down south, and the border region is insecure. Transport through Gloucester lands has become impossible. _

"I'm sorry to hear it," he replied. And then the key part. "Do you think you'll be able to handle it?"

Claude nodded, and Sylvain disguised his sigh of relief. He didn't know if he was more worried about Claude or the security of the Alliance in general, but he supposed it didn't matter. "I have a few contacts lined up that should be able to speed things along," he said. "How about you? Not that you're unused to harsh winters, sure, but you know how I worry about my old school pal."

Sylvain nearly snorted at that one. He and Claude had been less 'pals' during their time at the Academy and more dance partners. He wasn't sure how many sincere conversations he'd managed with the man; probably fewer than he thought, anyway. "Oh, I'll be fine," he said. "Nothing a few thick furs can't fix."  _ We might need a shipment of raw materials to aid us. _

"Alright," Claude said, nodding along with him. And that was it: simple, easy, and harmless. Just a little coded conversation, exactly what they were both here for, and they could be on their way.

Sylvain tapped his heel against the ground twice at his next step, and Claude nodded. He made to depart; their usual arrangement was a hug - they were old friends, after all - into Sylvain quickening his pace to take him far out of sight. No more words would be exchanged from this point forward. Except...

"So, Sylvain," Claude said. There was a hesitance in his tone that knocked Sylvain off guard; his heart raced at the break in their little script. "How long are you staying in the city?"

"Three more days," he answered truthfully. If he lied over something small like this and Claude found out, it'd throw a lot of other things into question; he knew better than to fall into a trap like that.

Claude smiled, and the knowing look on his face told Sylvain all he needed to know: Claude already knew the answer to his question. The real question was why he'd felt the need to test him. "Glad to hear it," he said. "Would you fancy speaking again? Say… six in the evening, at the Urial Inn?"

It was a departure from their usual arrangement. Normally, they met only once - that way, both could claim it was a coincidence rather than prearranged. Sylvain only stayed so long because hopping in and out at short notice was more suspicious than his presence there in the first place.

But, for better or worse… he trusted Claude. So he nodded. "I don't see why not," he said. "Maybe we could even talk about something other than business."

Claude's smile took on something else. Something softer. "Maybe we can.”

-

When Sylvain reached their designated meeting place, a couple of warning bells went off in his head.

The first: someone met him at the door. "Ah, are you Sylvain?" the woman asked. She was tall and very smiley; she didn't look much like a spy, but Claude was pretty good at picking people who slid under the radar. She laughed when he didn't reply. "Ah, don't look so worried! Claude just asked us to tell you to come inside when you arrived."

Huh. Strange. Sylvain kept one eye on the woman as he entered the building, mentally mapping out a potential escape route or two. The Alliance wasn’t at war just yet, but that didn't mean he shouldn't be wary.

Claude sat at a table in the establishment, a plate of food already in front of him. He grinned when Sylvain approached. "Sylvain!" he said. "I didn't think you'd come." That didn't sound like Claude was lying, but there was no reason for him to bail. Especially not when Claude seemed inclined to make this a good time.

That was when it hit him. Claude was trying to make this a good time, and there was food and drink. The person at the front had welcomed him in with a smile.

"If I didn't know you better, I might think you were trying to butter me up for something," Sylvain said, a small smile on his face. He tried not to make it too flirty, but he didn't know why - he could definitely play this game better than Claude could. 

Maybe he didn't really want to play the game.

"Perhaps I am," Claude said. Then he winked, and Sylvain tried not to feel the warmth that entered his chest. Damn it.

"Well, consider it a likely venture," he said. "But maybe we should actually talk about something, rather than dancing with our words."

Claude laughed, and Sylvain watched the light catch his eyes. He was just as pretty as he'd always been. "The annual ball is coming up soon," Claude said. It was strange for him to lead a politics conversation with something that wasn't all half veiled, but Sylvain wasn't going to complain. He got the feeling that this was  _ meant  _ to be a vast departure from what Claude normally did with him. "I have to make sure it's perfect, of course. If anything goes wrong, I'll be hearing it from every noble in the Alliance for the next six moons or so."

"Don't you  _ want _ the Margravine Edmund to complain about the oysters every time you're in her vicinity?" Sylvain asked, and when he chuckled there was actual lightness to his tone. It was unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

"Not particularly," Claude replied. "I'd rather hear about the important things. Do you know how difficult it is to get people to say the things you want them to when all they want to do is complain?"

"I have a good idea," Sylvain said. "You should see Felix on a stealth mission. Every time someone stops us, he breaks character to complain about the weather, Imperial forces making everything a pain… he's a terrible spy."

"I'm sure you more than make up for it," Claude replied. "Is that… I know I asked yesterday, but I wasn't really asking  _ you. _ So how are things going on that front?"

There was an intensity to Claude’s eyes that made Sylvain feel like he saw right through him. Normally, he hated it when someone saw him for who he was, but for some reason he didn't mind it right now. "Not great," he admitted. He kept his voice low, but he couldn't hide the exhaustion in his tone. "There's no sign of Dimitri, still. I don't know if we'll make it without him."

Claude paused, something inscrutable on his face. Normally, Sylvain felt Claude made himself readable on purpose - it meant that people saw what he wanted them to see. This was different. This whole evening was different. "Can we meet again tomorrow?" he asked. There was something cautious to his words, something vulnerable. Sylvain almost wanted to ask him to repeat himself, just so he could hear it again.

"Yeah, I'll be here," he replied with a shrug. Maybe if he pretended it wasn't a big deal, he could stop the way his heart hammered in his chest when Claude's beautiful green eyes met his, all intensity and secrets and truth. "How would you like me?"

Claude chuckled. "Just as you are," he answered, a frank honesty to his voice that struck Sylvain to the core. "Here." He pulled a map from his pocket, then, marked with what Sylvain recognised as the area surrounding the Riegan manor. Drawn on in red was… "A secret passage, so to speak," Claude explained, tracing his finger over the line as he handed the map across the table.

Their fingers touched for just a moment as the map changed hands. Claude smiled, and Sylvain echoed it. This map was a promise - of what, he still wasn't sure, but he was about to find out.

-

When Sylvain climbed the steps out of the waterway (if he weren't feeling charitable, he'd call it a sewer), Claude was already there, waiting for him. Sylvain smiled as their eyes met, but his mouth felt dry. They'd completely broken any kind of routine between them - a second meeting was unheard of, but a third?

A third meant something. It whispered affection and care and a hundred other things Sylvain should not feel for the man he exchanged spying information with. Their relationship was meant to be all business and shadows, not genuine smiles in the evening light. "You came," Claude said. He almost sounded surprised.

"I always follow through," Sylvain replied. It wasn't true for everyone, perhaps, but it was true for Claude. "So, what do you have planned for me, oh great Duke?"

Claude laughed, offering Sylvain a hand. He didn't know whether to take it, to let Claude lead him wherever he willed, or bend down and kiss it.

Maybe it was a bit early for the latter, but he shelved the thought for later. The former option already meant far too many things. 

Claude led him through the winding corridors of the servants' section of the manor before they emerged in his quarters. "Safer than going outside," he explained. "After the number of times we've met this visit, I thought it would be better that people didn't see you on my doorstep."

"Of course," Sylvain said. Claude gestured towards a couch in his bedroom, and he sat down, watching as Claude fetched a pot of tea. Sylvain caught the scent of bergamot; somewhere along the line, Claude had worked out that this was one of his favourites. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how. "The neighbours would talk if they saw."

Claude laughed. "That, and other things," he said. "I'd be more worried about it getting home to your folks."

"I don't think they'd give a damn," Sylvain admitted. Everyone was so busy with the war. Sylvain being an errant, irresponsible heir would just be old news.

"As they shouldn't," Claude said. "It's your life, not theirs."

"Sometimes I wonder if that's true.” He tried to take a sip of tea to hide the bitter truth he'd spoken, but it didn't work. Claude's eyes pinned him to the spot.

"Of course it's true," he said. "Sure, family means  _ something, _ I won't pretend otherwise, but we're living in a strange and hostile world, Sylvain. Sometimes you have to be kind to yourself, if only because no one else will be."

"I can think of someone who is," he said, and fuck that was meant to sound flirty but it sounded so heartrendingly sincere. Claude put his teacup down. After a moment, Sylvain's descended to the table too.

Claude leaned in. Sylvain didn't know when either of them made this decision, but he mirrored Claude's movements without a hint of hesitation.

Sylvain was...not a stranger to kissing men. Not anymore, anyway. He was, however, a stranger to kissing men like Claude. His trysts were short, sharp, taken in moments before and after battle when death felt only a hair away. Claude was gentle, slow, and deliberate. His lips pressed not hesitantly, but not desperately. His hand cupped the back of Sylvain's neck, keeping him close, and Sylvain wanted nothing more than to never pull away.

But all good things had to come to an end, and eventually Claude drew back. Their eyes met, and Sylvain felt warmth spread across his face. He brought a hand to his eyes and scrubbed at them, unsure if they were filled with tears or if he just couldn't quite process the intensity of Claude's expression. "What now?" he asked. His voice was hoarse.

Claude took a deep breath. "I'm going to take a gamble," he said. His voice wasn't shaky, but it wasn't as self assured as Sylvain was used to hearing. "Answer my question as honestly as you want, and if you want to just ditch our little game of politics and tactics then go ahead."

"I think we moved on from politics a while ago," Sylvain said with a chuckle, as if he didn't throw kisses around at home just as frequently as he picked up a lance.

But this one was different; he knew that, and so did Claude.

"I think you're right," Claude said, his smile all teeth in a way that didn't hold a hint of insincerity. "So I'll ask you this as my friend, as whatever that just was, and as a man I think could go a very, very long way in the future.” He sucked in another deep breath. “Will you stay with me in the Alliance? Help me achieve my goals?"

If Sylvain was a good spy, he'd say no. If he did what he should for the Kingdom, he would shoot Claude a small, insincere smile and use all that affection against him. He'd string Claude along for as long as he could, dangle him just a short way away from pain, and get everything he could to get the Kingdom through this mess.

Sylvain was not a good spy. "I'll stay.” His voice wavered more than he wanted it to, and his hands gripped the couch beneath him. Claude hesitated for just a moment, and then offered a hand to him once more.

Sylvain smiled, and with shaking hands, lifted Claude's hand to his lips. "I'll stay," he repeated, stronger this time.

Claude once told him that the brightest, most hopeful thing in the world was the stars above. But in that moment, Sylvain was inclined to disagree: he much preferred the light in Claude's eyes, ready to guide him home.

**Author's Note:**

> Tysm for reading! If you enjoyed, a comment is super appreciated. I also have a twitter over at @samariumwriting where I talk about writing (among other things!)


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